


in between what i say & what i mean

by hwatothestars



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25399192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwatothestars/pseuds/hwatothestars
Summary: "I am disappointed in you about something. Why are you touchy-feely with them and not me?"in which Hongjoong tries to appease Seonghwa's disappointment.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 15
Kudos: 253





	in between what i say & what i mean

**Author's Note:**

> i'm like 2 years late to the party but i watched kq fellaz the other day and i've never formed an otp so fast lmao. slowburn is my kink but communication is cool too so here we are? 
> 
> title kinda taken from drifting away by khai dreams.

When Seonghwa bids Wooyoung goodnight and tiptoes to his and Yeosang’s shared bed, he notices instantly that Yeosang is not there. Yeosang sleeps on his back, head centred on the pillow, chin raised, features serene. Yeosang sleeps like he’s shooting a mattress advertisement or a skincare product, perhaps both. Seonghwa never comments because Yeosang rarely moves a muscle through the night and there’s no complaining about that. 

No, the lump in his shared bed is buried under the duvet and seems to be a shorter bundle than his designated bedmate. After a few heartbeats of Seonghwa hovering in contemplation, the bundle makes an impatient huff and throws back the cover.

“Surprise?”

“Oh,” Seonghwa’s heart kicks into a gallop, “Joong-ah,”

“Coming to bed or are you planning to stand there all night?”

Climbing hesitantly into bed, Seonghwa asks the first thing that comes to mind, “You’re not going to work?”

“Want me to leave?”

“No— no, I just, wasn’t expecting you.” 

“A few weeks out of the country and you have already forgotten your roommate.” Hongjoong shakes his head in despair, reaching out to flick Seonghwa’s forehead, “Seonghwa, I’m hurt.” 

“I— stop that,” Seonghwa laughs quietly, “if anything you’re the one who’s forgotten.” 

It comes out as a joke, it’s how Seonghwa meant it, there’s nothing accusatory in his tone, but Hongjoong sobers up and if Seonghwa didn’t know better he’d say Hongjoong flinched. 

“About that,” Hongjoong sits up, brows furrowing as he glances sideways at Seonghwa. There’s a tautness to his shoulders that Seonghwa recognizes, like his spine is a bow that’s being stretched. Hongjoong is braced, the way he is in the studio or any other time he’s delivering critique he’d rather not give but feels obligated to. 

Seonghwa wants to reach out, wants to caress his back till all the will melts out and there’s nothing but pliant bone and warmed skin. _The bed is not a battlefield,_ he wants to say, _lay down your cross, it’s only me._ But he listens anyway and keeps his hands to himself.

“Mmm?”

“We’re so close to it, aren’t we?” Hongjoong says, voice almost a whisper. There’s a tinge of absent disbelief to it, as if he’s talking to himself. “Our dreams. The thing we’re zombied for.”

Seonghwa smiles. “Yeah,” 

“And what’s our motto?”

“Eight makes one team,”

“Eight makes one, yeah,” he repeats softly, sliding back down onto his side, facing Seonghwa properly. “Earlier, what you said, it got to me a bit,”

“What I said?” Seonghwa racks his brain until- _oh._

“I want to know if you were just joking.” Hongjoong picks at the bedspread, voice so low Seonghwa has to bend so close he could count Hongjoong’s lashes, or press their foreheads together in a way that would ensure their lips pressed together. Seonghwa doesn’t have these thoughts often. When they do, it’s always at the most inopportune times like this. Can physics support a heart beating this fast and not bursting out of a chest?

“—Or if it was for the camera? I know they said to be ourselves but to make it interesting too but not too interesting and not too ordinary but— but nevermind, that’s not important. I want to know if I’ve hurt your feelings along the way somehow. I swear I never meant to.”

“Oh Joongie,” Seonghwa was going for exasperated, just a bit, but somehow it comes out grossly _fond_ and happy. 

“What?”

“You came to talk about this?” 

“Eight can’t be one if two start to crack, right?”

Seonghwa nods.

When you pad the truth with enough denial long enough, it’s possible to deceive the only person that cannot be tricked: yourself. And Seonghwa would be lying if he said it doesn’t make his stomach tingle with butterflies of terrifying stature at the thought of Hongjoong putting off work, seeking him out, following up on his feelings, wanting to smooth out any hurts. 

Ultimately, it may be for the team’s sake and objectively it is more important. But selfishly, to serve a pound of flesh to the parasites in his heart that sing for a sliver of Kim Hongjoong’s elusive attention and— ambitiously— affections, Seonghwa will steal this for himself. 

“I’d rather nip it in the bud while we can. I don’t want it to grow between us and get in the way of our friendship.”

Seonghwa raises a single acute brow, “So you came here to nip my bud,”

“Do you want your bud nipped?” Hongjoong raises his fingers in a scissors gesture, pretending to shear off Seonghwa’s noise. “Ssh, you’re gonna wake them,” Hongjoong hisses when Seonghwa loses composure and erupts into giggles but his grin betrays his mutual amusement.

“Are we good?” 

Seonghwa’s chest constricts as Hongjoong inches closer.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Seonghwa exhales, offering a small smile, “You’re not going to find us resentful of each other in a year’s time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ in there?”

“But I _was_ a little serious. Sometimes. . . sometimes I wonder if it’s something I brought on myself or if that’s just how you are. I could never hate you for it, though, and I can accept both.” 

Hongjoong is shaking his head before Seonghwa even finishes but it’s a moment before he speaks, turbulence crossing his face as he meets Seonghwa’s gaze again. 

“I don’t go out of my way to avoid you,” he speaks slowly, like the perfect words are a few centimetres shy of his reach and he’s stretching to pluck them from the air, “you’ve never done anything to warrant that. You’re just. . . the anchor, you get me? For everyone. It feels like I have to dedicate more to the others because you already seem so. . . complete? More than capable. I guess I forgot you need someone too. I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa’s heartbeat must be audible, like the whirring laptop fan when they’ve got too many tabs open. Surely Hongjoong can hear it. Surely Hongjoong can see the lantern his words have lit inside Seonghwa. 

“Are you going to be that from now, then?” Seonghwa settles for a smile curled in one corner, knowing the exact reaction it will elicit from Hongjoong, “My someone?”

“Yah,” Hongjoong smacks his shoulder softly with a scowl, “don’t get weird ideas.”

_“You_ came to _my_ bed, don’t forget.”

“And now you can watch me leave it,” Hongjoong huffs and makes to slide out of the bed but Seonghwa swiftly catches his wrist.

“No, come here, stay,”

When Hongjoong settles back down, he’s much closer. So close as to be chest to chest with Seonghwa, hand tentatively placed on Seonghwa’s hip. So close Seonghwa can’t breathe, not without a lungful of herbal shampoo and faint cologne and a unique scent that pervades their room back home. A unique sense of home.

“Is this. . . is this okay?” 

It should be. Isn’t this what Seonghwa wanted? To be treated like everyone else. 

It’s okay, it’s more than. It’s _too_ okay. Who would have thought seeing your wish granted was a suffocating affair.

Seonghwa swallows thickly and hums his assent, worried what his voice might betray, if it doesn’t betray him completely by failing altogether. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, reaching out experimentally, settling his arm over Hongjoong’s shoulder. This isn’t weird. . . right? It doesn’t say much? San and Wooyoung sleep like they’re alloyed. They’re not even roommates and no one bats a lash. This is the norm for the rest of the team, Seonghwa himself doesn’t hesitate with the others. Why won’t his muscles unclamp?

“So we’re good?”

And yet. Yet when Hongjoong squirms until he finds the perfect position, cheek pillowed over Seonghwa’s heartbeat, hold tightened on his waist like Seonghwa is that plushie he likes to hug to sleep, something in Seonghwa unlocks and like a sunset taking over a stormed sky, light and comfort bleed through the mild panic and relegate his distress to distant mental realms. 

He sinks into the respite with both hands. 

“We’re good, Joongie,”

“Mhm. Goodnight then,”

“Night,”

“Oh thank _fuck._ Goodnight! Don’t either of you dare speak another word.” 

Above Hongjoong’s head the serenity etched on Seonghwa puts sleeping Yeosang’s to shame. He is too preoccupied with letting it wash over him to admonish Wooyoung for his language. From the hint of upturned lips imprinted on his chest, he guesses Hongjoong shares the sentiment. 

Sleep comes full and peaceful. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thanks for reading~ a sane person would probably wait a little more before writing for a new fandom lol but i couldn't get this out of my head. i'm new to atiny town so come say hi on the bird app, i don't bite ^.^ 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hwatothestars)


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